


Dirty Little Secret

by Dreaming_Spire, rubirosas



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_Spire/pseuds/Dreaming_Spire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubirosas/pseuds/rubirosas
Summary: Not everything done in the dark is shameful. But some of it is, and that's what makes it something he can't stop doing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Know It All.

It's been a long day and the last thing he wants to do is fight, but as he unknots his tie -- lilac, paisley-patterned -- Rafael knows that recent events will linger between them until someone says something. Rather than let the feeling of unease thread through the room and settle in (because this sort of thing always turns heavy and stagnant), Rafael glances over at the bed. "Don't say it. I know you told me so, but - "  
  
"But you did it anyhow," his lover replies, without looking up from the phone in his hand. "There's no point in discussing it."  
  
Their initial argument, months ago, had been brief, intense, and ended unsatisfactorily. _I can't just sit back and do nothing! What would you do?_ Rafael demanded. The question was met with a tight-lipped, _I'm not the one who follows the rules ever-so-carefully, as you like to remind me. I'm going out._ When the door slammed, Rafael thought for a moment he'd traded one career-ending secret for another. Even so, he resisted the urge to be the one chasing someone, all apologies. That wasn't who he was, and he'd be damned if anyone made him into that. Neither were there any apologies two days later when the other man returned in the middle of the night. Rafael had woken to a warm body collapsed next to him, the subject dropped. Or so he thought.  
  
_There_ was a saving grace. Rehashing mistakes - well, mistakes besides being here, doing this - in the rest of his life doesn't have a place between them.  
  
In the present, Rafael unbuttons his vest, lithe fingers working the buttons with frenetic energy. As he carefully places the grey swath of silk over a chair, he says, "I'll manage. Or something. Maybe I'll move."  
  
"You can stay." The other man still offers no real reaction, his attention on the screen before him.  
  
"Your brother?" Rafael guesses, based on the distracted yet affectless body language. His lover is not the only one who can read people. Rafael's fingers pull at his dress shirt now, suddenly feeling constrained, as though the mere mention of the brother produces physical discomfort. He tries not to wince. He's never met the man and he really doesn't want to.  
  
"Indeed. Ever so happy to help."  
  
_At a price_ , he thinks, adding his white button-down to the accumulating pile on the chair. Always at a price, which means more lonely nights. Maybe not an entirely bad thing, depending on whether the "small favors" required would be interesting, drawing only minimal complaints from the one carrying out the deeds. Maybe they'll be less trouble than business as usual. Maybe even -  
  
"You're very calm about this," Rafael interrupts his own train of thought, pants halfway down, realizing for the first time that something is _off_.  
  
"Am I?" the other man finally looks up from his phone. "Someone has to be."  
  
"Are you using again?" Jesus. That would be the final straw. Rafael runs a hand through his hair, which seems threaded with more and more silver lately.  
  
"That would imply that I stopped in the first place." The level stare tells Rafael nothing. "No. No, I'm not. I didn't meddle in your case, I didn't interfere with your situation, and I am not currently using."  
  
Rafael keeps the sigh of relief to himself, but the tension drains from his shoulder as he sits, now down to his undershirt and boxer briefs. "I'm sorry. It's just..."  
  
"It's just that you've nearly lost your career doing something people look on favorably. And now you're re-evaluating whether you should keep doing this. Bad enough in general, but I'm - "  
  
"You're what I want." Rafael says, admitting it to himself as much as to the other man. "You're an addict. You're technically a criminal."  
  
"A sociopath." Grey-blue eyes regard him, unreadable.  
  
"According to you. You're a lot of things, and a lot of them aren't good." He pulls off his white undershirt, wanting to discard the last vestige of his outward appearance. He's sick of it, sick of being so damn upstanding. He crumples the shirt, tosses it in the direction of the chair, hits and misses. The movement sends his careful pile to the floor. Good. Now it's his turn to do the regarding, his green eyes darker than usual, his tone almost gruff with determination. "But you're so much more. And I'm not going to lose this."  
  
"Rafael - "  
  
There is need in his lover's voice and something else, the way he draws the syllables out as no one else can. Rafael's lips meet his before he can go on.  
  
In giving money to a junkie, _a witness_ , he'd risked everything not once but twice. For what? To make things right or to allow himself to sleep better at night? Either way, he isn't going to stop doing _this_ , no matter how crazy, no matter how selfish. This is who he is, underneath: the man who wants to be here, in this room, with the most extraordinary person he's ever met. If he were exposed, he'd never be able to explain. Would he even try?


End file.
